His Mother

As I learn more and more about what it means to be a mother to Joab, I often find myself thinking of his mother- the one he was born to, I mean. I know very little about her, and what I do know I'm not even sure to be the truth. I was told by our social worker that Donald (Joab's birth name) was born to a mother and father in Eastern Province, and that he had 4 older siblings. One of those siblings, Eunice, happened to be his twin (more thoughts on this later).

When the twins were 4 months old, their father passed away of some sort of sickness. Their mother packed up her kids and travelled to Lusaka in order to collect his life insurance policy, but when they arrived, she found it to be worth only K50,000- about $10. Nowhere near enough to travel back home, let alone set up a new home in Lusaka. Stranded with no job, no house, no relatives nearby- she made a very bold and courageous move...she gave up her kids. Knowing she couldn't care for them, she made sure they got to places where they would be. The older siblings were placed in a large, westernized children's home, and Donald and Eunice were placed in a transit home for children under the age of two. She, herself, went to stay at a aftercare home for the sick and destitute while she looked for some sort of job.

Can you imagine the devastation of losing a husband, and then having to give your children into the care of someone else? She, stripped of absolutely everything, must have been utterly and utmostly heartbroken. How scared and hopeless she must have been, and yet, she still possessed the selflessness needed to do what she understood to be best for her children. I often think of that moment, when she had to let go of Donald's little hand and walk away from him- and my heart breaks too.

I so wish that I could have been the one to help restore their family; to bring them back together- but, God seems to have had other intentions. After about two months in Lusaka, Donald's mother passed away as well. Of what, I am not sure- perhaps sickness, perhaps something deeper.

And so, two years later, God's plan for me is to step in where she left off. You see, I will always be tied to this woman in the most unusual way- we are mothers to the same son. I will think of her often, and those like her too- and I will be sad, even angry about the horrors they have had to endure; the husbands and children they have lost.

That sadness and anger bring with them joy, however, as they help me to realize the honor it really is for me to be a mother to Joab- I, as his mother, get to have a front row seat in the redemption story God seems to be weaving in this little boy. And though a full measure of justice will not be worked out until the very end, I pray that God would use this blog to share with you the portion He chooses to unfold, and that He may receive all the glory as He does.